


Velvet Goldmine

by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (well a dress), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Confident Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale (mentioned) - Freeform, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Stiles Stilinski, Happy Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Non-Binary Stiles Stilinski, Nonbinary Character, Other, Stiles Stilinski in a Skirt, Stiles Stilinski's Name is Mieczysław, Stiles Stillinski Is Pretty, Stiles Stillinski's Bedroom, and he can't wait to show Der-Bear, sterek implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/pseuds/all-or-nothing-baby
Summary: Crooked lips now quirk shyly back at Stiles in his bedroom mirror as he turns, this way and that, getting a kick out of pale limbs playing at being elegant, something he never thought he'd see. His usual chicken-legs look… they look kind of fucking great, actually. Even the moles spattered over sharp collar bones—and okay, just about everywhere else—look not-butt-ugly, for once, next to the tiny strapless number he currently seems to be wearing the shit out of.ORStiles comes out to themselves as non-binary—and wonders where the hell lycra and velvet have been all their life.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	Velvet Goldmine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/gifts).



> I gifted this work to... myself! As a thank you for being strong at the times I don't want to be.
> 
> Art by me :)

Bony fingers smooth over stretched lycra weaved through soft velvet. The material... it's like mousse rippled with a dark chocolate sauce. He's only just stripped off and pulled it on and it's already almost warm beneath his touch. Luxurious, as he imagines a wolf's coat would be.

Stiles' lips twitch. 

The dress feels nice. Makes him… sexy? 

Crooked lips now quirk shyly back at Stiles in his bedroom mirror as he turns, this way and that, getting a kick out of pale limbs playing at being elegant, something he never thought he'd see. His usual chicken-legs look… they look kind of fucking great, actually. Even the moles spattered over sharp collar bones—and okay, just about everywhere else—look not-butt-ugly, for once, next to the tiny strapless number he currently seems to be wearing the shit out of.

He's shaking, just a little. Adrenaline lights a candle in his chest, and it's just enough to light the dark corners of his midnight bedroom.

Stiles reaches for the soft, jet-black pencil to draw tentative flicks as smoothly as he can onto the corners of his eyes, the way he's seen Lyds do it a hundred times. As quiet rain starts tapping away at his window, he smears on smooth, creamy colour and it's the frosting on the red velvet cupcake that is now his mouth. And it's all so… velvet cupcake is pretty fitting, come to think of it. Stiles looks… pretty.

Yeah. God, yes. That's it. _Pretty._

Looking hard into the mirror again, peering through an invisible veil with painted eyes that now skim over every detail, Stiles recognises it. It swirls around his gut, a heady sensation he didn't even know he was craving until seeing himself this way—poised, polished. And, yeah. Pretty. He isn't Baggy Rumpled Stiles, hastily thrown together with impatience and Ritalin and confusion. _No_. He's Bold Sleek Stiles, refined and smoothed out and... and shit, he's practically _graceful_. Band tees and flannel and ill-fitting jeans are hella comfortable. Easy. But Stiles knows he also hides behind them. Shields himself from the hurtful looks of _ugh,_ _too-skinny_ and _I thought freckles were supposed to be cute?_

If he's being honest though, Stiles has always kind of hidden from himself, too. 

Stiles doesn't look like a lot of other guys—he's known that since before he could write his name in Alphabetti Spaghetti. With delicate features and long eyelashes, he got mistaken for a girl so many fucking times as a kid, before he convinced his Mom to let him have all his hair shaved off. His Mom… she must have known, he reckons. He smiles at the thought. Shakes his head a little. Stiles doesn't think he really _feels_ like other guys, either, from what he can ascertain from lacrosse's sweaty, jibe-laden locker room. Yeah, Stiles is just as crass as the rest of those dudes, just as indelicate. Just as horny. Just as desperate. But he also needs gentle things. He knows he's intuitive and that he wants new things, wants more. He wants to be heard and seen and loved not just for who they think he is, who he has been hiding behind.

Stiles _is_ different from the way everybody perceives him. He wants to be free.

Looking at his reflection, Stiles absorbs satisfaction like a sponge in the ocean from the way the dress is highlighting his slight shape in a way he'd normally hate but doesn't; from the way it clings to his hip bones and brushes over his ivory skin; the way it moves when he does, shimmering in his desk's golden lamplight; the way it makes him feel.

Yeah, Stiles is not like the other guys at highschool. At least the ones he knows. And he's… he's maybe actually okay with it. Like, really okay with it, the way he sees himself, now.

_This_ Stiles? He owns this. Owns his body and his head and his heart—he knows exactly who he is. Knows his desires and his truth. Nobody and nothing can take any of _this_ away from him. Here, where muscles meet velvet-skimmed hips, Stiles has struck gold with his thrift store LBD, beautifully slick warpaint, and a smile that he's goddamn earned. Stiles can be whoever the fuck he wants to be.

Stiles is pretty. They are. They're pretty, and Stiles is _them_.

_Mieczyslaw Stiles Stilinski is genderfluid, nice to fucking meet you._

They stroke their hands over their buzz cut, over their dress, over long limbs and dark-hair covered skin.

This must be… what confidence feels like?

_Hmm._

Stiles' lingering smile grows into a pleased, wry smirk.

_Derek Hale isn't going to know what the hell has hit him._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm s l o w with comment replies but always answer eventually!
> 
> Luce <3


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